Making a habit
by Daruku Janubu
Summary: As every morning, Allen Walker woke up at the same time, did the same things he always do and thougth the same thoughts. And yet he just couldn't help but to think he wasn't himself anymore.


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Hello there! Here is another one-shot from me!

I kind of link one-shots, they tend to be more free than a complete story.

This was born one night when I saw a program of mental problems and identity loss at discovery. I thought later, what would you feel if someone told you that eventually you would disappear and someone else will take your place?

I thought of writing how Allen could feel as he coped with the growing presence of the fourteenth in his life.

Parings: None

Warnings: look out for bad grammar and bad use of vocabulary. I warned you, I'm still not very good, and I wrote this very late.

Disclaimer: I don't own D gray man

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**Making a habit**

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As every single morning, Allen Walker awoke at 4:30 a.m.

As every single morning since his master told him the truth, he sat on his bed in complete silence.

As every single morning he turned to his side to make sure that he hadn't disturbed Timcampy's sleep.

As always he looked towards the bed of his roommate, and recently appointed new furniture piece, and sighed in relief because just as always, Link wasn't there.

As always, he knew that the inspector was taking a shower and having some 'personal' time believing that his charge was still asleep.

As always, he knew this was because the inspector wanted to avoid seeing any of his ex-fellow crow members at the common bathing room. The inspector wouldn't say it out loud, but he felt obviously bothered by their new 'nature'.

As every morning, Allen just sat there looking at his own hands. For one minute. Two… three… five… ten. For fifteen minutes he just sat there and waited while looking at his hands. It had to be fifteen minutes. Precisely fifteen minutes. Because it was a common habit by now for him to wait those fifteen minutes there. Because he had awoken at the time he had gotten used to wake. Because he had looked at Tim as he always did and had made sure the inspector wasn't near. Because he had looked down in the middle of the darkness of his room and had let his eyes get used to the lack of light that came with the dawn. Because he had gazed at the same hands he had looked at so many times now. Same human hand. Same innocence hand. And because… having this habits, made him who he was right?

Right?

The boy gritted his teeth as he clenched his hands.

It was everything the same. Nothing had changed. Nothing at all. Then why?

Why every single morning he woke up feeling as if he wasn't himself anymore?

Why he needed fifteen minutes to convince himself that those hands he looked at where really his?

Why couldn't he convince himself he was still himself?

The boy moved his hands as he did every morning. He each hand traced the fingers of the other. Five fingers in each hand. Ten fingers in total. HIS ten fingers in HIS hands.

Then his hands uncovered his lower body and touched his feet. Each hand tenderly analyzing every single finger of each foot. Five fingers in each. Ten fingers in total. HIS ten fingers in HIS two feet.

Then his hands touched his legs, looking at every muscle, every scar, and every little hair that grew over his skin. Those were HIS legs.

He did the same with his arms. Not letting anything pass his scrutinizing eye. Whatever he couldn't look he felt with his hands. He could feel the little scars that covered much of his innocence shoulder blade. Those were HIS arms and those were HIS scars.

He lowered his hands and touched his chest, taking a special amount of time to analyze his most recent mark. The very noticeable innocence burn that covered his chest and stomach. His fingers gingerly pressed over it. Sometimes, it was painful, but he needed to do it. Because, even if he didn't like it, that scar was HIS.

He analyzes his body with obsessive eagerness. He had never felt so desperate while looking at himself, not even when he had been a child. Not even when he noticed that everyone was shunning him because of his ugly arm. He had never been so scared. Because, no matter how many times he looked at himself, no matter how many times he felt his scars or how many times he counted his limbs. For some reason he couldn't avoid the feeling that suddenly none of them were his.

The boy stood up slowly and walked to his desk. He had a mirror there. He had placed it there saying that he wanted one in his room to be able to make sure that Lavi hadn't painted his face with girl make-up as he did weeks ago to make fun of him. He had said it was for that reason. He had lied.

The boy sat down in his chair and looked at the mirror. His hands flew franticly all over his face, tracing all the features he couldn't see by himself. His hair, his eyes, his nose, his mouth. His skin was pale, a little paler than normal, but still a known pale. His hair was as white as it had been the day Mana cursed him. And to complement the idea, the scar was as red as the blood that spilled from had been.

That was HIS. And HIS only. His human hand caressed lovingly the cursed that he used to hate so much. There was once a time when he had felt disgusted by just looking at it, because it reminded him of his sin. It was almost hilarious to think that right now, such a thing could give a little amount of peace to his mind. Because it had been HIS sin. Because this was HIS curse.

Every single day it was becoming more and more difficult.

Every single day he felt less and less himself.

And after all, what was he supposed to expect? Was he supposed to wake up one day and suddenly not be himself but someone else? Would he even notice? Would he go on his day not even knowing he wasn't Allen Walker anymore? Would he even get the chance to fight for his right to exist?

Allen shook his head. If only his master was still around, then maybe he wouldn't be so scared. If only he had gotten more answers, he wouldn't have to do this everyday.

But it seemed this was only his own mind worrying for nothing. Because he still remember his lonely childhood. He still remember the happiness of meeting his 'father', he still remember the pain of loosing him. He still remembered making the worst mistake, and meeting his master who taught him to deal with it. He remembered everything he went through as an exorcist and he knew all his friends' faces.

And thought he remembered things that weren't his… like how to play the piano…

He knew his body, at least was still HIS. Because those were his hands, those were his legs. That was his abdomen, that was his chest. That was his back, and that was his neck. That was his hair, that was his scar, that was his nose, that was his mouth and those were his…

"uh…" He felt his eyes widening as his blood went as cold as steel. His heart beat out of rhythm and he felt as if he were about to lose the last remain of his sanity.

_Allen…_

Allen wanted to scream. Allen wanted to cry. Allen wanted someone to have the mercy of just ending his life. Because, those… those staring back at him, couldn't, weren't HIS eyes!

HIS blue gray eyes were replaced by the cold golden orbs staring back at him. His eyes… were where his eyes?! Frantically the boy touched the mirror's surface. His hands begged for it to show him his eyes, the orbs that had looked at him in every reflection during his whole life.

In his desperate attempt he noticed something he hadn't noticed yet. The shadow wasn't behind his reflection anymore. There wasn't a grinning shadow mocking him as he checked himself as it should be… as it did every day. He shook in fear and despair.

Those were the shadow's eyes… the shadow stared at him right from his own eyes. The shadow had changed Allen's eyes in order to fit his liking. Allen shook in newly found wrath.

"GIVE THEM BACK!" he yelled as he shook the mirror from side to side "YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO TAKE WHAT IS MINE!" The boy got so desperate that without thinking it twice, he threw a punch at the middle of those staring eyes, braking his big mirror in a thousand pieces "I'M NOT YOU! DAMN IT!" he fell to his knees, scraping his legs with the shards and holding his bleeding human hand. "Give them back…Just give them back… I need to be me when I wake up" He hold his hand near, he felt his whole arm going numb for some reason.

"WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED HERE WALKER?" asked a shocked and really clean Link as he came running through the door. He had been alarmed by the crashing noise. But when he saw Allen, lying miserable on the floor with a growing puddle of blood under him, and then noticed a frantically flaying golem over his head, he softened his voice "What's wrong?" he got near, taking the precaution of keeping his pocket knife close, just in case his charge had lost control.

The boy refused to look at his comrade. Allen knew that if the inspector saw his eyes, he was doomed. He felt so frightened that he couldn't believe himself.

"Allen Walker, either you tell me or I will go to the supervisor and ask for assistance to force you" he knew that Allen wouldn't want his friends involved. After all, it was a rule that what happened in Allen's room stayed in Allen's room, unless it was something that involved public security.

Allen just mumbled nonsense for a while and then finally tried to explain, hoping to at least receive some compassion from the one that he had recently started to look at as a friend. When he told Link his eyes were different and finally looked at him, he only received a quizzical look from the former assassin. The older man got close to the boy and took a hold of his left hand.

"You're really a mess. While you make this whole drama you've continued to bleed. If we don't get you treated you could faint from blood loss" the man pulled to get the boy to stand up but Allen refused.

"Aren't you hearing me? I can't go out" he said as he cried and felt ashamed of himself.

"I heard you, but I can't believe that you would react like that to your imagination" the boy looked at him confused "Your eyes are fine Walker. They are the same color from yesterday, so you have either been inside a nightmare or you just got confused"

Allen denied his words saying he was sure of what he saw. Link just sighed frustrated and went to his bed. Opened his bag and pulled out a small object. He went back to the scared boy and showed it to him. It was a pocket mirror.

"You don't believe me? then see for yourself"

The boy took the mirror with his bleeding hand and looked at its surface. He was joyful to see a pair of grayish orbs looking back at him. He just couldn't help but to laugh out loud. He must have been mistaken somehow. Those were still HIS eyes…

"They are still mine" he mumbled as he swayed from side to side. He hadn't realized he was this dizzy.

"You idiot!" growled Link as he caught him before he fell over the broken shards "Let me see your right hand" he took it without waiting for an answer "Damn" he cursed "Walker!, Walker stay conscious!" he called him as he tried to get up, feeling a little disgusted from the blood that had been pooling on the floor "You truly are unbelievable. How could you get such a huge shard of crystal to plunge itself inside your wrist?" the man managed to put the confused teen over his back "We need to get to the infirmary quickly before it does anything more than just creating a huge mess. And I will need to take another bath" he said as he looked at his ruined clothes "It seems I can't afford to leave you thirty minutes alone"

The exhausted exorcist just mumbled a 'sorry Link' as he felt himself unable to actually fight against been taken to the head nurse.

"Don't worry about it. But you will have to give me a whole more detailed explanation after they stitch you up. I know that you have been under great pressure Walker, but you can't go around almost getting yourself killed by blood loss every time you don't see the difference between reality and dreams. Or should I think you are developing suicidal ideas?" the boy groaned about how stupid the inspector was for insinuating something like that. Link allowed himself to chuckle a little since he knew that his charge was far too confused to say more "Alright. But, please be careful, you are my responsibility after all" the boy nodded slowly feeling drowsy "OH, and walker?" he received a 'un?' as answer "Please don't make this a thing of every day, ok?" the boy chuckled as he mumbled.

"I surely hope not to"

Link sighed and kept silent as he took the boy through the halls. He was worried about this. Allen Walker had being so upset about whatever he saw happened to his eyes that he didn't even notice the pain of that thing going up his wrist. The inspector will have one hell of a time trying to explain his superiors that Walker wasn't suicidal. He looked ahead to the worried golem that kept that kept fluttering around them. At least, if Timcampy recorded the situation, then maybe it'll be easier. The inspector sighed again; he wasn't going to be able to have his half an hour of privacy. He would have to keep Allen under vigilance to make sure he wouldn't hurt himself again.

"_What could be__ possibly going on in your head, Walker?" _

Resting his head on his comrade's shoulder, he didn't pay any mind to the frantic movements of Timcampy or to the many sighs from the inspector. The only thing Allen could stare at was the grinning shadow that floated after his reflection on the windows they walked past by. The thing that kept so mesmerized was that the shadow was actually touching him. The gloved hand of the fourteenth was softly patting his hair as if trying to comfort him. And he could actually feel his touch. He was scared, but somehow also comforted by it. The shadow said something to his ear, and he finally understood.

_My Allen…_

That was the reason why no matter what he did, he couldn't come to believe that he was himself. Because even thought this was his body (his eyes, his mouth, his nose, his arms and legs). He himself belonged to the fourteenth. So, even if this body was his, it also was the fourteenth's. The boy smiled a bitter smile as a lonely tear fell down his eye.

_My beloved child… My Allen… _

He felt sick of been comforted by something that would eventually erase him. He wanted to laugh as more tears fell down. The inspector asked if he was in pain. And God knew he would have preferred to be in pain. But this feeling was so ironically good he couldn't answer at all. He will have to make a habit of feeling him this close.

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Well, that was all. I hope you like it. Please, if it's confusing, let me know.

Don't forget to leave a review.

Thanks for reading.


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